Lost Identity. Leona Karr
her. If she could just make it down to the place where Andrew had found her, everything might come rushing back. Maybe the blocks in her mind would fall away and she would see what was hidden from her. She swallowed back her fear and stiffened her resolve to accept anything that her memory threw back at her. Anything.
“You, okay?” he asked as she stiffly walked beside him. When he reached out and took her hand, he was surprised how clammy it felt. She looked like someone walking to her execution. With a start, he realized the strength of will she was displaying in leaving the house and exposing herself to whatever upheaval might be waiting for her. “It’s going to be all right. Don’t be frightened.”
“I’m not,” she lied.
He tried to get her mind off the purpose for their walk. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said without looking at it.
“Why don’t we take a little walk in the other direction before we circle the cove?”
She hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. The reprieve, even for a few moments, was a welcome blessing.
They crossed a wide strip of sandy ground dotted with wild grass, sand, rocks and driftwood, and carefully made their way down to the beach. As they walked along the edge of the water, seagulls darted overhead, keeping up a cacophony of raucous noise. The ocean simmered in the bright light of the sun, and a light breeze ruffled the water, sending a frill of white dancing to the shore.
Trying to ease her nervousness, Andrew talked a little bit about the coastline and the terrain farther south. Nothing he said about the geography seemed to register with her, but her body lost some of its tension as she walked beside him. Her hand felt small and fragile in his, and glancing at her profile, he realized again how petite and feminine she was. It was beyond his comprehension why anyone would want to hurt her. Was her trauma centered on her loss of memory and nothing more?
She felt his searching gaze upon her, and she gave him a tenuous smile. With his strong body so close to hers, she felt safely anchored in the moment. When he smiled back at her, his brown eyes catching a glint of sunlight in their depths, she felt a strange stirring that unwittingly brought warmth into her cheeks.
They walked for about a half mile before they turned back, and he felt her tension returning as they neared the cove that lay below his cottage. The sandy beach narrowed at this point. In this small scallop of the coastline, dry seaweed and bleached driftwood lay among rocks that edged small eddies. A couple of indignant gulls rose with a flutter of wings from one of the small pools.
“Let’s see now,” he said in a conversational tone. “If I remember right, you were lying just about there.”
She stopped and looked down at the smooth sand as if the indentation of her body should still be there. “Are you sure?”
He glanced up at his house. “Yes, I could see this spot through the front window.”
She moistened her dry lips. “Did you see anybody else? Or anything?”
“Nope. I just glimpsed you lying right here. No sign of a boat or anything else.”
“Then how did I get here?” she asked, frowning, as if he were somehow keeping the answer from her.
“That’s what we need to figure out.”
She had steeled herself to accept whatever her mind dredged up, and she felt like someone ready to do battle without any enemy to fight. How could they find any answers when her memory was as blank as a freshly washed surface?
“Why don’t we sit down, and just take it easy for a few minutes? You can look around and once you get oriented, you may remember something.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“Then I guess we’re back to square one,” he said, not wanting to admit he’d put a lot of hope in her remembering something that would give them a place to start. He was convinced that if they didn’t have some kind of a breakthrough, there was no other alternative but to get her some professional help. Without even suggesting such an idea, he knew what her response would be.
She sat on the sand, hugged her pulled-up legs with her arms, and resisted the temptation to bury her face against her knees. Biting her lower lip, she looked out at the waves breaking in white-foamed sprays against rocks outlining the inlet. She narrowed her eyes, trying to superimpose another scene upon one in her view, but she failed. Nothing in the way of a memory came to her. She only knew that the sound of roaring surf was one that had tortured her and brought cold chills rippling down her spine.
Sitting close beside her, Andrew watched her face and sensed the struggle going on within her. “Just try to relax, Trish, and let your mind wander where it will. Forcing yourself to remember will only make you more tense.”
They sat in a heavy silence for several long minutes, until Trish couldn’t take it any longer. She turned to him. “Talk to me. About anything.”
“All right. See that tern pecking away over there?” he pointed to a small white bird hopping about as if she were riding a pogo stick. His resonant voice softened. “She’s got a nest over there in the rushes, and in the early spring there were five little ones following her around. They’ve all gone now, seeking their fortune in the big wide world.” He described other water fowl that were frequent visitors to the small cove as if they were his friends and companions.
Just listening to his steady unruffled voice was strangely soothing. She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back on her arms, pretending that there was nothing more urgent than just listening to him.
“I collect a lot of driftwood in this spot. For some reason the current seems to swing into this small cove. I suppose that anything or anyone caught in the surf might end up here.” He watched for any slight flicker of her eyelids but her expression remained impassive.
She knew what he was trying to do—prime her memory pump. But it didn’t work. All she could remember was lying in that very spot, gasping for air, not knowing if her clothes were drenched either from seawater or the pouring rain.
“Where do you go on your morning run?” she asked, wanting to get his attention on something else besides her complete lack of success in remembering anything before he found her.
“Sometimes I make it down the coast to those buildings whose roofs you can see,” he said as he pointed southward. “A little over a mile. There’s a small shopping center and a couple of resort hotels. Just a nice walk from here—in nice weather.”
Getting to her feet, she stared in the direction he had been pointing. “Do you think I could have walked in the storm from there to here?”
“Do you?” he asked quietly.
“It’s possible, isn’t it?” Nervous hope suddenly churned her stomach. “Maybe I was stupid enough to hike this far in the rainstorm and was overcome by fatigue. That could be it, couldn’t it?”
“What do you say to getting in the car and taking a quick look around Seaside Plaza? We can see if anything rings a bell,” Andrew suggested as he rose to his feet. “You don’t have to get out of the car unless you want to.”
Instant refusal caught in her throat. Leaving the safety of Andrew’s cottage was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Come on, let’s give it a try,” he coaxed as he slipped an arm around her waist and guided her back to the house.
In a matter of minutes, she found herself crowded close beside him in the front seat of his small car, her chest tight and her breathing rapid. Something deep within her didn’t accept the explanation that her present condition was the result of something as benign as a misguided walk.
Aware of her intense physical reaction, Andrew began to wonder if it was such a good idea after all to make her leave the house. She looked almost physically ill hunched down in her seat. He was tempted to turn the car around and go back to the cottage, but he knew that